


Your Body Is a Work of Art

by scerek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Bottom Scott McCall, Casual Sex, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Facials, Frottage, M/M, One Night Stands, Painter Derek Hale, Rimming, Tattooed Scott McCall, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Scott McCall, Waiter Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scerek/pseuds/scerek
Summary: Scott is dragged out to an art gallery showing by his best friend where he has the dullest time of his life until he meets a sexy, handsome stranger. After an amazing night of sex, Scott finds out that the man he slept with is a big time painter on-the-rise.(Or, an AU where Derek's a famous painter and Scott's a simple caterer and also they fuck a lot.)





	1. "The Starry Night" by Vincent van Gogh

**Author's Note:**

> **Minor Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Alan Deaton, Jackson Whittemote  
**Background Relationships:** Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Theo Raeken (mentioned), Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore (past, mentioned)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm alive.
> 
> I know I have other projects to work on, but it's been a crazy last few months, so I'm hoping something like this can end my hiatus. Just an idea I had in my head. Don't really plan for it to be a lengthy fic. Hope you enjoy.

Scott stared blankly at the painting in front of him. It looked like a kind of odd, pink lily surrounded by shades of brown. He didn't really understand it, but everyone around him seemed to have been in awe of it, so he did his best to look just as impressed.

Normally, Scott would be working at these kinds of events, standing around and handing out hors d'oeuvres to a bunch of snooty yups who would call him Javier or Jose and assume he couldn't speak English very well. But thankfully Deaton had given him the night off, which meant Scott could finally get some well-deserved sleep so he wouldn't be dozing off in his AP Biology class for once.

Instead, however, Scott's best friend Stiles had dragged him out to Lydia Martin's art gallery where Stiles worked, because it was the first art showing that he put together to showcase some new artist on the scene; a young buck named Garrett. And being the best bro that he could ever be, Scott had no choice but to slide out of bed, put on his best dress clothes, and mingle into the crowd of art snobs.

His job was to eavesdrop on what other people were saying about the paintings. Paintings that either looked really colorful or super weird to him. That was basically the extent of Scott's art expertise. All Scott desperately wanted was to be at home, sleeping in his comfy futon bed or maybe jacking off because he hadn't been laid in a while and he was horny as hell.

Stiles was currently making rounds through the crowd, chatting it up with a bunch of one-percenters that he no doubt wanted to strangle to death, all while in hot pursuit of some sought-after painter that decided to attend the showcase. Supposedly, he would bring around good publicity for the gallery, so for Stiles tonight was all about schmoozing for new clients.

Scott hadn't moved from his spot in front of the lily painting for the past half hour, already on his fifth glass of champagne, still tired, still horny and still very, very bored. He was ready to officially call it a night until a man came up and stood right next to him to also gaze at the flower painting.

"Enjoying the art?" the man asked casually. He was stupidly attractive. Great hair, strong cheekbones, the perfect amount of scruff, and he filled out the tailored suit he was wearing exceptionally. He was exactly Scott's type.

Scott took another big gulp of his drink before motioning toward the painting. "So, is this yours?" he asked, his words slurred from the alcohol.

The man shook his head. "The art here is amateurish," he said critically, "But people will fawn over anything if you tell them it's artsy enough."

Scott snorted before turning his attention back to the painting. He eyed the tag underneath the frame that read _Violet_.

"_Violet_, huh? It kinda looks more like a lily, to be honest."

"That's because it's his girlfriend's pussy," the man replied dryly and Scott almost choked on his drink.

Scott patted his chest a couple of times before looking up at the man with a scandalized look on his face. "Sorry—_what?_"

The man chuckled amusedly at Scott's antics. "This kind of art is really popular right now," he explained. "A lot of young artists consider the female genitalia to be powerful, vibrant, and erotic. You'll see about a dozen of these kinds of works in the art scene."

Scott eyed the painting more closely. Now that the man mentioned it, it did have a certain vaginal quality to it. "You know a lot about art?"

The man shrugged. "You could say that."

"Are you an artist?" Scott asked, blinking cutely with a tilt of his head.

The man studied him, eyebrow raised, and for a second, Scott thought he might have offended him. But after a short pause, the man smirked at him, keeping his answers vague. "I dabble," he had said, but that didn't really answer the question.

After about five minutes of just staring at the art piece in silence, it was becoming clearer and clearer to Scott that the man was definitely not there for the vagina. _On the contrary..._

"You're not into art, are you?" the man asked.

Scott ducked his head shyly, chuckling, "Is it that obvious?"

The man laughed with him. "I'm Derek," he said finally, holding out his hand.

"Scott," Scott greeted, shaking Derek's hand. "I'm here because my friend made me come."

Derek hummed, amused. "The art here's okay," he began, "But they're nowhere near as impressive as the ones I have at my loft." He looked Scott dead in the eye and confidently asked, "Would you like to see them?"

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that was a come on. But Scott could be a little clueless when it came to hot guys hitting on him and plus, he was pretty drunk. It took him a second to gather that Derek was inviting him back to his place. As soon as he came to that realization, all the blood rushed downward and a spark of interest flared in his eye. This hot-as-fuck guy was hitting on him and as much as he loved Stiles, he loved his dick more at the moment and he needed to get off.

Scott sucked in a breath, trying his best to look cool and confident. "Lead the way," he said in a lusty voice, hoping he sounded sexy. Derek chased down the last of his champagne before taking Scott by the hand and leading him through the bustling crowd of yuppie art snobs.

By the time they got out, there was already a limo waiting for them. Derek must be someone important for him to have such a first-class ride. The leather interior by itself probably cost more than Scott's rent.

"Wait," Scott said as he pulled away, "I just wanna make sure I'm not reading this the wrong way—you are gay, right?"

Derek chuckled. "Yeah." And before Scott knew it, Derek was closing the gap between them, sealing their lips in a fiery kiss that was so hot, Scott was almost completely hard and leaking precum after just seconds together. They got in the limo and sped off, vagina paintings left in the dust.

"Home, Boyd," Derek ordered before the partition rolled up and the man's hands occupied themselves on Scott's ass. He pulled Scott up onto his lap, allowing Scott to straddle him while they continued sucking bruises into each other's necks.

The car ride felt all too short for Scott. Just as Derek had managed to unbutton his shirt and trail scratchy kisses over his sensitive chest, the limo had stopped. They stumbled out of the car as best as any drunk couple could before making their way to the elevator. Scott's shirt was open save for one button and Derek's belt was hanging off with his zipper undone. The whole elevator ride, Derek had Scott pressed against the corner, almost hiked up on his tippy toes while their tongues danced.

To anyone watching, they were grossly obnoxious. But to them, their unbridled arousal was coursing through their hot bodies. They finally reached one of the top floors, where the swanky apartments were and it was a race down the hall to get inside Derek's place and really start the fun. Derek barely had the key in the doorknob before Scott fell to his knees and sucked a sensitive spot above where Derek's huge cock was straining against his boxers.

They walked in and clothes began flying off. Scott's shirt almost didn't make it into the suite. Derek's belt was tossed somewhere into the living room while his designer slacks fell to the floor before slipping out of his Italian shoes. By the time they got to the bedroom, Scott's boxer briefs were already hanging off his ankle while Derek carried him to the bed. Scott never really got a good look at Derek's paintings, but from what he could tell when they were walking to the bedroom, they all looked very pretty and very weird.

Derek tossed him on the bed, ass up and ready. He pulled off any remaining clothes he had until he was stark naked with just his long socks and he got down and spread Scott's cheeks apart, exposing his hole. Scott was thankful he shaved the previous night because the prickly feeling of Derek's beard when the man dove down and raked his tongue over his rim was a heavenly experience.

Scott was seeing stars. His cock ached for release, leaking onto the sheets while Derek continued his hungry assault over his ass. Meanwhile, Derek hummed into Scott's hole like he was having the best steak dinner of his life. If the foreplay had been this good, Scott could only dream of what else Derek had in store for him.

"Fuck, you taste good," Derek said gruffly, breathing heavily. With a playful slap on the cheek, Derek stood up and lined his cock up to Scott's entrance. He spat down on his cock, getting it nice and slick before slipping the head in, almost agonizingly slow.

Scott hissed through his teeth, his rim clenching instinctively at the intrusion. Derek was pretty thick, but before Scott knew it, Derek was sliding in comfortably to the hilt. The pain subsided and replaced by a sweet pleasure as Derek's slow thrusts gradually got faster. His dick slammed against Scott's prostate, sending Scott into a tizzy. Scott was so punch-drunk from the pleasure, he wasn't sure he could speak coherent statements at the moment. The only sounds he could muster were strangled half-moans between powerful fucks.

It was the kind of fucking that made a person go cross-eyed. So hard and so primal. Scott thought he might pass out from every powerful blow to his G-spot. He could feel his chest tighten, it was almost hard to breathe from how good it felt. He doesn't think he'll be able to sit down properly for a good week.

"Oh, my God," Scott had a goofy smile on his face. He had no idea how he got so lucky, but he really needed this and this guy was right up his alley... So to speak.

After a good long fuck in doggy-style, Derek slipped out and grabbed him by the waist, easily flipping him over so that Scott was on his back and facing him. He had to marvel at the broad chest with the small patch of hair in the middle, the rock hard abs and treasure trail that led down to the real prize of the evening. Derek's cock was flushed pink and the head was slick and shiny. On top of that, it was pretty fucking big. As if the man's face wasn't hot enough on its own, the rest of his body.was a that of a god. Scott would feel more insecure about himself if the man hadn't just been inside him and wasn't looking at him like he was a five-course meal.

With swift movement, Derek hooked Scott's legs over his shoulders and lined himself up again. A couple of more spits to his dick and Derek was back to giving Scott the fuck of his life. This time, there was more urgency in his movements. His cock would slip all the way out before slamming right back in to the hilt. It made Scott see stars. The pleasure was so intense, Scott thought he might actually pass out.

With each thrust, Derek's top half would inch closer and closer, effectively folding Scott in half until they were nose to nose enough for Derek to fully close the gap into a hot kiss. Although a better description would've been Derek kissing Scott while Scott hyperventilated into Derek's mouth.

"You like that? Tell me you like the way I fuck you," Derek growled.

If Scott could form words, he probably would answer. But the fucked-out whimpers coming out of his mouth should be sufficient enough. The beginnings of his climax coiled in his nether regions and his voice cracked higher. He was about to cum all over himself.

"You gonna cum for me?" Derek said through heavy breaths. "I wanna see you fall apart. Cum for me."

Scott was full-on sobbing at this point. Every punch against his prostate made him dizzier.

"That's it. Fuck yes! Fuck—" _Thrust._ "—king—" _Thust._ "CUM!" _Thrust. Thrust. Thrust._

Scott's toes curled and every muscle in his body contracted. He hoped to god his face didn't look too stupid as his orgasm coursed through him. He felt a hot, thick mess pooling at his stomach before Derek fucked the rest of his orgasm out of him. As the last of his spunk smeared between their overheated, naked bodies, Scott could feel Derek's thrust get more erratic which meant his own release was near.

"Fuck, I wanna cum on you," he said as he slipped out of Scott.

Never minding the fact that there was already a splash of fresh jizz on both their stomachs, Derek scooched up until his cock was over Scott's face, jerking the flushed member until he let out a harsh growl that was followed by a thick load of hot cum which splashed over Scott's cheek. A second shot went right into Scott's mouth with perfect aim. Another had splattered over his neck before the remaining shots were dribbling all over his chest and nipples.

Scott licked his lips happily. Derek's cum was salty and sweet at the same time. To his surprise, Derek had bent down and stuck his tongue into Scott's mouth, tasting himself on his tongue. It was filthy and hot and Scott was going to be jerking off to this night probably for the rest of his life.

"That was amazing," Scott panted, finally able to string a few words together. There was a dreamy look in his eyes. The kind of look he would get after a good fuck or a hell of a bong hit with Stiles back at their apartment. He felt like he could lay there, sticky and smelling like cum, all night.

"It was," Derek mused as he hopped off the bed. He strolled over to what Scott assumed was the bathroom with Scott not being able to help but eye the way Derek's ample ass would bounce with each step. Not long after, he heard the shower running and Derek returned, socks gone, and smiled at him.

"So what do you say for Round 2 in the shower?" Derek asked confidently, leaning against the door frame. "I have those handle bars that you can hold on to."

And that sealed the deal for Scott before he was practically leaping off the bed and racing Derek to the steam shower that would definitely get a lot steamier as the night carried on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have some words written down for **My Best Friend's Brother** and **Mr. Right Now and Mr. Wrong Number**, and I'll try to get them posted when I can.
> 
> Much love ❤️❤️❤️


	2. "The Scream" by Edvard Munch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should've mentioned last chapter that I have very little knowledge about art and paintings and I just wanted write a Painter Derek AU lol

A very hungover Scott awoke the next morning to the sound of his phone blaring into his ear. It was too bright for whatever time of day it was and he had a splitting headache that felt like jagged rocks banging against his brain. Whoever it was, they'd have to call back later so Scott can slowly die in bed. He dared to peek an eye open, his vision no longer blurry, finally, and noted the bright white room. Considering his bedroom back at his apartment was a dingy beige color, he gathered that he was at someone else's place.

Thoughts of the previous night's escapades began to recollect in his mind and he smiled goofily to himself. He mostly remembered sexy stubble and a big, hard cock, but that was all that he needed to remember and now he was semi-hard. He'd probably reach down and jerk off if it weren't for the annoying ringing from his phone that just wouldn't stop.

He reached around until he was able to grab his phone and answer. "What do you want?" he groaned miserably.

"Oh, goodie! A friendly voice!" said Stiles, sarcastically. Scott could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Where'd you go, bro? I looked for you and you were gone."

Scott sat up, noting the white sheets that were swaddling his naked body. The bedroom looked like it belonged to a very expensive apartment; one that probably cost more than the building Scott lived in.

"Dude, I got _fucked_," Scott said, holding the phone back to his ear.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"No, I mean, I got _fucked_," Scott emphasized. "You know when they say _'getting fucked stupid'_? I got fucked so hard last night, I think I forgot math."

He heard Stiles chortling with glee on the other line. "That's my boy!" He sounded so proud.

"Dude, he came all over face," Scott said excitedly, "I think I'm in love."

"You still at his place?"

"Yep, and I'm hoping to at least give him a morning BJ before I do my walk of shame."

"You know, I hate you sometimes? Here you are with a thriving sex life and my last date night consisted of a family-sized bag of Hot Cheeto Puffs and my right hand."

Scott snorted. "You know you could always call Theo. He'd be so down to sleep with you."

Scott didn't have to see Stiles to know he was flailing his arms. "Ugh, no! First of all, Theo is evil. Second, didn't you guys sleep together the last time we saw him? Why would you think I'd want your sloppy seconds?"

"Because you're horny and I won't fuck you because it'd be weird."

"Valid point. I'll give him a call," Stiles conceded. "Anyway, so it might interest you to know that last night was a rousing success, but I never found my guy."

Scott lied back against the pillow, humming happily at how soft it was. It was like sleeping on a cloud. "I'm sorry," Scott said, yawning and stretching like a lazy cat while Stiles continued his rant.

After a good couple of minutes of Stiles complaining about one-percenters, Scott heard a door slam outside and guessed that Derek might be home. "Stiles, I'd love to hear more but I think I hear him coming in and I'm starting to get hard again, so I'll see you later, okay?"

"Fine!" Stiles pouted. "You can tell me all the dirty details when you get home so I can jerk off to them later."

"You got it. Love you, bro." He hung up and tossed his phone aside.

He didn't have his clothes so he opted to just walk naked with only the linen sheets covering his lower half. He walked out to the apartment and noted how it looked much nicer in the sunlight and without alcohol fogging Scott's senses. Many of the paintings Derek owned were of various depictions of vibrant orange, yellow, and red flames. They were pretty to look at it and not at all weird like the others in the apartment. They especially stood out against the white walls. It was clear that Derek was a big deal if he had such a fancy-pancy place.

"Derek?" Scott called out, but he got no answer. "Hey, Derek!"

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream, followed quickly by a shrill "_Oh my god!_"

Scott almost jumped out of his skin. With a yell of his own, he turned around to see a young girl around his age with long brunette hair and a scandalized look on her pretty face. Much to Scott's horror, the sheets had fallen to the floor, leaving Scott to cover up his nether regions.

"Cora?" came Derek's voice as he rushed into the living room. He was shirtless and wore nothing but a thin pair of sleep pants. His hair was messy and if Scott weren't so mortified, he'd be so turned on right now. Actually, one would think he was turned on since his morning erection was still trying to peek through his hands.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked, panicking.

Cora held her hand up to block her vision of Scott's very naked body. "We're supposed to go to brunch, you idiot!"

"Shit," Derek cursed, hands clapping against his face in embarrassment. But he couldn't be any more embarrassed than Scott, who frantically scooped up the bed sheets over his privates and made a beeline back to the bedroom. He couldn't help but bang his head against the door repeatedly because that was beyond humiliating.

He looked around for his clothes and just his luck, all of his clothes were outside where Derek was getting reamed by his sister.

"You're so disgusting, Derek! I can't believe you! You couldn't have the decency to get your latest boytoy out of your aparment before your little sister arrives for brunch? Real nice, big bro! I saw his freaking boner, Derek!" The girl shuddered. "You think I like seeing some random skank's sausage before my morning coffee? So gross!"

Scott wasn't at all offended by her remarks, but he gathered that a morning blowjob for Derek was out of the question, which was a shame because Scott loved sausage with his morning coffee. He heard the door slam and not long after, there was a soft knock on the door before Derek came in.

There was an awkward tension between them, both blushing red. After an uncomfortable pause, Derek finally spoke up. "I'm sorry—I thought you had left and I completely forgot about my sister coming over."

Scott nodded his head, still not knowing what to say.

"So..." Derek began slowly, scratching the back of his head. The action had only proceeded to show off his large bicep and it was almost criminal that he looked so sexy when he was nervous. "I can take you home or call you a cab, I guess."

Scott smiled nervously, looking very adorable. "I can't find my clothes," he said cutely and Derek let out a chuckle.

They exited the bedroom where Derek called a cab while Scott looked for his clothes. He eventually found his boxers which had somehow gotten tossed into the kitchen and the rest of his clothes were strewn about in various places. By the time he got his underwear on, he felt a pair of big arms wrapping around him and a warm body pressing against him as his whole body hummed with arousal from the light kisses Derek was leaving on the back of his neck. Yep, he was back to being hard again. Scott turned around to truly embrace Derek in a hot kiss.

Derek was groping everywhere. From his clothed ass down to the back of his thighs and eventually all along his back. He traced his fingers along the various tattoos that Scott had over his arms. His rough fingers left sparks over his sensitive skin. Their moment soon ended as fast as it begun and they pulled away to get some air.

"Fuck," Derek panted, licking his lips. "It's a shame this has to end. I would love nothing more right now than to fuck you against my countertop."

"Yeah..." Scott concurred, disappointed. His cock began to deflate and they finally let go of each other to finish getting dressed.

The elevator ride down was mostly silent and they sort of stayed in opposite corners of the cart. By the time they reached the bottom floor, the cab driver had already arrived and Derek had given him a nice tip to take Scott wherever he wanted to go. There was a pang of sadness in Scott's chest, but he didn't show it. He supposed that it was naive to think that this was going to be more than just a one-night stand, but that still didn't stop him from feeling a little cheap afterwards. Still, it was nice of Derek to at least pay for the ride home.

Scott didn't stay in a sulky mood for very long. During the cab ride, he began to think about last night and the amazing sex he and Derek had. He was going to be jerking off to the memories for weeks. He could still feel the prickle of Derek's scruff against his skin and the roughness of his hands holding him down as he fucked him. And shit, Scott was hard again. He really wished they gotten to do a morning blowjob.

The cab had stopped by Scott and Stiles's apartment building and by the time Scott trudged up the steps and unlocked his door, Stiles was bombarding him with invasive questions from his place on the couch where he had a bunch of papers spread out.

"So how big was he? Was he like ridiculously porn star huge? Or how I've fantasized Chris Evans is kind of huge? Did you bottom? I bet you bottomed. Your butt is definitely your best physical feature, especially after you gained all that weight."

Scott gave him an offended look because he only skipped leg day a couple of times for Dunkin' Donuts, for crying out loud. "Dude, I'm tired and hungover and I just wanna take a nap and wake up next year," he said with an exhausted sigh as he plopped down on the couch.

Stiles frowned at him. "Yeesh! What happened, bro?" he asked, "Did you get to give him a morning beej? Were you bad? Was it too big? Did you choke on his high fructose porn syrup?"

Scott rolled his eyes, then cringed. "His sister caught me naked in his apartment, so he called me a cab home."

"So no morning beej?"

"No morning beej."

Stiles stood up and slapped a hand over Scott's shoulder in a comforting gesture, but it actually hurt... a lot. "Them's the breaks, buddy. It's probably for the best. A guy who's as hot as you say he is, is probably way out of your league anyway."

"Thanks," Scott grumbled miserably.

"You're welcome, bro."

Scott lied back against their couch and scrubbed a hand over his sleepy face as Stiles continued sorting through his work files. Just then, he realized something. He patted over his pants and dress shirt, but felt nothing but his wallet. "Shit," he cursed. "I forgot my phone."

"Yikes! Sucks to be you, man."

Scott let out a whine. Why was this happening to him? He was a good person and didn't deserve this. Maybe this was the universe telling him to stop being such a whore. But Scott loved cock way too much so that was out of the question.

During his existential crisis, Scott happened to look down at the papers Stiles had been looking at. A few of them were photos of painting that Lydia had probably been planning to buy and sell at the art gallery. He happened to have caught a few of them that looked exactly like the flame ones in Derek's apartment.

"Hey, I think I've seen some of those," Scott announced, catching Stiles' interest. "In Derek's loft."

And Stiles almost choked on his own tongue. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "D-Derek? Derek Hale? _The_ Derek Hale?"

Scott looked at him, confused. Now that he had a chance to think about it, he never really got a last name. He was just Derek. Hot Guy Derek. Derek with a really huge—

"Scotty!" Scott snapped out of his thoughts to see Stiles flailing his arms yet again. "Was it _The_ Derek Hale you were with last night?"

Scott winced, crouching into himself. "I don't know..." he spoke softly.

"Was he tall? Handsome? Did he have a beard? Green eyes? Strong cheekbones?"

Scott scrunched his face, trying to remember if Derek had green eyes. One would think that Scott had gotten a good look while Derek was inside him, but he was a little preoccupied having the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I guess."

Stiles made an unintelligible noise. "Oh, my God, dude! You fucked _The_ Derek Hale?! Or he fucked you?"

But Scott just shrugged. "Who is he?"

"Who is he?!" Stiles repeated, shouting. "He's only the most sought-after painter in New York right now! I can't believe you had sex with _The_ Derek Hale. I can't believe _The_ Derek Hale's dick was literally inside you!" Stiles paled. "Oh my god, bro! Did he cum in you? Do you have _The_ Derek Hale's nut nectar sloshing around inside your bussy?"

"Eww, dude! Never use that word again! And I'm not telling you any of that! And stop saying _The_ Derek Hale! You make it sound like he's part of the Royal Family."

Stiles scoffed. "He might as well be! He's worth like millions of dollars! He was like a child prodigy until his parents burned to death in a fire like 10 years ago. He's super famous for fire paintings and his most well-known artwork is a wolf made of flames. It won the International Art of the Year Award. Scotty, he's a really big deal! Lydia's been trying to get him to sell some of his paintings at the gallery for almost three years already. He's super picky about his venues."

Scott stared at him with a blank expression. "Cool...?"

Stiles narrowed accusing eyes at him. "So _you_ were the reason why he bailed out of the art show so early?! I can't believe you ruined my future because you wanted to get fucked so badly! There goes our new flat screen! And lobster meals! And our lifetime supply of weed!"

"Whatever, dude," Scott said with a roll of his eyes. "I still need to get my phone back."

"That's it!" Stiles shouted triumphantly, a lightbulb going off in his head. Scott could only dread the thought of yet another idea of Stiles that would no doubt get him in trouble. "Scott, this is perfect. You have an in with _The_ Derek Hale—"

"I told you to stop calling him that—!"

"—So you can go over to Derek's place, ask for his number, work your magic blowjie skills and then convince him to sell his art for the gallery!"

Scott sat up, looking very insulted. "Dude! I'm not going to do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're basically asking me to whore myself out so you could exploit him for your own gain!"

Stiles blinked. "Yeah and?"

Scott huffed angrily at him. After a staredown between the two best friends, Stiles conceded and pouted at Scott childishly. "At least get his number for me!"

"Stiles..."

"Come on, Scotty! Please? I really need this..."

He was attempting to use the puppy eyes that Scott was so famous for. Except they work for Scott and they almost never work for Stiles, especially when he tries to pull that stunt on his dad. Nevertheless, Scott let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head.

"Fine."

Stiles did nothing to hide his gleeful excitement.


	3. "Number 17A" by Jackson Pollock

Scott sat at his computer desk (a rickety TV dinner table that he used for his laptop that Stiles had found in the dumpster behind their building) and googled Derek to see what all the buzz was about. He skimmed through several art websites that had photos of Derek's art pieces and a few short bios. It was mostly just general stuff like where he grew up and brief mentions of a house fire that killed his parents when he was young. For the most part, it was probably nothing that Stiles didn't already know.

He clicked a few links to see more of Derek's work. The paintings were almost all glowing fiery orange works that were very pleasing to the eye. He could understand why his work was so popular. It was hard not to just stop and stare.

"Fuck!" Scott cursed when he looked at the price tag for one of them: over $350,000. His apartment building wasn't even worth that much. He always thought artists were struggling and depressed and barely making ends meet. Kind of like how Scott and Stiles were, only infinitely more talented.

Instead, Derek had a private limo and was living in a penthouse suite whose rent was probably bigger than all the money Scott's ever had his entire life. And Scott was just a simple veterinary student working for a catering company to make rent and pay off his loans and the last guy he fucked made his living selling weed to broke college kids. Stiles was right, this guy was way out of his league.

He waited until the afternoon to dial his number on Stiles' phone, hoping Derek might answer if he was persistent enough. Thankfully, it only took four attempts before Derek picked up. Scott gulped nervously when he heard the effortlessly sexy voice on the other line.

"Hey!" Scott squeaked out, trying not to sound so eager. "I, uh—I think you have my phone. Which you probably knew already because you answered my phone..."

_Fucking idiot_, Scott mouthed to himself with a roll of his eyes.

"I gathered that much," Derek said smoothly. "I was wondering why _The Thong Song_ kept playing all over my apartment."

Scott wished he had taken the call outside on the balcony so he can jump off of it because this conversation was going in the exact opposite direction he wanted.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Stiles picked it out. He's a funny guy." He was going to kill Stiles. "So, um, I was thinking maybe I could... come over? And pick it up, I mean!" he added quickly. "I mean, I don't have to if you don't want me to. Whatever's good for you. I don't have to come or anything..."

Scott was cringing at himself so hard, he thought the neighbors might feel it. There was an agonizingly long pause from Derek before he finally spoke up.

"Actually," he began, "I'm just about to leave my apartment right now. I can send you some info to my studio downtown. You can meet me there."

Scott perked up a bit. "Yeah, sure, I can definitely do that."

"And do me a favor," Derek asked seriously, "When you get here, delete the info. I don't like that many people knowing where my private studio is."

Scott agreed to the terms and waited patiently for Derek to send him the info. The place was way, way more downtown than Scott had anticipated. He had to take two cab rides along the way and Scott was pretty sure that his dinner was going to have to be the left over pizza from a couple of days ago rather than something fresh because the cab fare was so much.

Finally, he arrived a few blocks from where he was supposed to be at: a large, grungy-looking building on the industrial side of Brooklyn and he wondered if Derek had been pulling his leg because this did not look like the kind of place a millionaire painter like Derek would be at. He was afraid he was going to get mugged or assaulted or murdered or all of the above in no particular order.

He walked into the building and into the freight elevator where he went up to the seventeenth floor. He cautiously trudged over to Room 17A where he knocked on the big, metal sliding door.

"It's open," came Derek's voice and Scott let out a sigh of relief. He slid the door open and entered the room. The place looked exactly like how a painter's studio would look like: messy with dried paint flecks spattered across the floors. Various canvases were laid against the walls and the place was dimly lit with mostly the sunlight through the large window in the center to brighten up the place.

And there was Derek, standing in the middle of a paint-stained tarp next to an easel with a palette and brush in hand. He wore dirty overalls with the straps undone and hanging off his hips. He apparently liked to paint shirtless because he was bare from the waist up. Unless he was doing this simply to impress Scott. Then color him impressed. And hard.

"So this is where you do all your paintings and stuff, right?" Scott asked, looking around with puppy dog curiosity. "I googled you. I didn't know you were a famous painter." He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry if I offended you or anything."

"You didn't." Derek said with a shrug. He put his supplies down on his work table and sauntered over to where Scott stood. He fished out Scott's phone from his pocket and Scott tried really hard not to stare at his happy trail and V-line. He really did. Now that he was closer, Scott noticed there was a smudge of yellow paint on Derek's beard and an orange speck on a bushy eyebrow and that only made him look more insanely adorable to him. This was going to be a really hard goodbye. No pun intended.

"I actually liked the anonymity," Derek finished with a wink.

"Me too." Scott mentally smacked himself in the head. "I mean, not me. I'm nobody. I mean, I'm not nobody! I'm _somebody_—just not like you. Not... a..."

Scott obviously had been spending too much time around Stiles because he was beginning to ramble like him. Derek, however, didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was too preoccupied studying Scott's face it seemed. Scott took a big gulp and stuttered, "I, uh, I hope I didn't ruin brunch for you..."

"Don't worry about it," Derek replied, inching closer.

It was almost like the closer Derek got, the harder Scott's cock would get. It felt different from the last time they were in this situation. Now Scott knew who Derek was and how big of a deal he is. It made Scott feel a little insecure in a way. He was a simple guy with a simple job and this suave, sexy, rich guy picked him out of a crowd and chose him to go home with. And now he was standing mere centimeters away with an alluring stare that almost made Scott weak in the knees. But that might just be because all of the blood in his body was going to one place.

At some point during his thoughts, Derek had reached out and undid the top button of Scott's jeans and was now pulling the zipper down. His tented boxers jutted out from their denim prison and a wet spot formed as Derek's hands boldly grasped Scott's cock through the cloth.

"I think we need to make up for what happened this morning," Derek suggested, closing the gap between them.

Scott melted into the embrace, which quickly escalated to a more fervent kiss between them. Soon, Scott's pants and underwear were already at his feet while Derek had dropped to his knees and fisted the hard length in his hands before licking a long stripe along the underside of Scott's cock. The warmth of Derek's mouth on his dick was otherworldly and Scott thought he might embarrassingly cum in only a few seconds. Before long, Derek was all the way to the hilt, chin against Scott's sack and nose buried in his trimmed pubes. Again, Scott was really happy he groomed this week.

"Fuck," he cursed. Derek pulled away from Scott's dick with a wet pop before moving down to his balls to suck on them one at time. The pleasure was immeasurable. And he thought he had amazing blowjob skills. Derek's mouth was incredible. If he could, Scott would want Derek to trace every tattoo on his own body with his mouth all day long.

Derek smoothly stood back up and planted a kiss to Scott's lips, allowing him to taste his own arousal. Derek was already shoving his overalls and underwear down to his knees where his hard dick bounced out, hard as a rock. The head was flushed deep pink and leaking. Scott was on his knees in seconds, sucking the solid length into his mouth with barely-concealed glee as he chased the salt of Derek's precum on his tongue. Derek eventually maneuvered himself so that they were both lying on the dirty tarp with their mouths perfectly aligned with each other's cocks.

And so they laid there, eagerly sucking each other off for what felt like hours. Scott decided that he loved the head of Derek's cock the most. The crown was round and perfectly proportionate to his thick member. He licked long stripes along the sides of his cock, like it was an ice cream cone melting in the heat. To his dismay, however, Derek pulled back and got back up, kicking away his overalls until he was fully naked. He helped Scott stand and shuffled toward the work table as best as he could with Scott's pants around his ankles, bending him over and out on display.

Scott waited impatiently as Derek fished out a bottle of lube that he conveniently had in his desk drawer. Scott was not at all convinced that Derek had wanted this to be a totally innocent exchange. He heard the cap opening and a squelching noise before Derek was fisting his now slick cock and lining himself up.

"Fuck," Scott moaned as Derek thrust in and out with ease. That empty feeling he had since this morning finally disappeared and gave way to the feeling of being filled. That sensation of being fucked stupid was slowly coming back to him. Maybe if he were lucky, he'd forget how to spell his name.

"Like that?" Derek grunted, doing a particularly torturous pull out before slamming back into his hole, making him whine.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Scott was all he could answer. There was no point in trying to communicate because Scott was back to losing parts of his speech.

With a little bit of effort and some skilled maneuvering, Scott was able to pull out one leg from his bundled clothing and rest his knee on Derek's table, spreading his hole wider and giving the man easier access. He reached down and started jerking his cock as best as he could from his awkward position in tandem with Derek's thrusts.

"Fuck... yeah... H-harder..." It was all Scott muster up as Derek fucked him at a faster pace. From the erratic way Derek was pounding into him, Scott could tell he was getting close. "Fuck, yeah, c-cum in me, dude. Cum in me!"

It was like a chain reaction. When Derek came, it was almost violent, coating Scott's tight walls with hot jizz and Scott was so overwhelmed that he came seconds later. Derek pulled out pretty fast and backed away. Scott could feel a wet trail of cum going down his leg and it was definitely going to be an uncomfortable taxi ride back with how full he felt. His legs felt like jelly and he couldn't stand up for very long. He took a place on the floor next to Derek where he was recovering from their tryst.

The loft reeked with sex. Their bodies were sweaty and gross and Scott couldn't imagine a better place to be. He dared to drape an arm around Derek's heaving chest, cuddling into him where he accepted the gesture.

"So that was fun," Scott quipped with a smile. Derek let out a laugh before pulling Scott up into another kiss.

"Hey, um..." Scott began. He was so quiet he wondered if Derek could even hear him. "I was wondering if I could... get your number, maybe?"

Derek hadn't respond immediately and Scott was going to ask again until he got a tentative, "O-okay," from the man.

Their cuddle session ended almost as fast as it began before Derek grabbed Scott's phone and typed in his number. And that was it. Derek called Scott a cab and paid for the ride once again, and Scott was off with new jerk-off material for himself and a possible business venture for Stiles.


	4. "Luncheon Of The Boating Party" by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Three days later, Scott was at his TV dinner desk, pretending to do his essay for his AP biology class, when a fuming Stiles marched into his bedroom. Scott could tell Stiles was mad because his lip curled upward and his face had gone pink. Plus he was flailing his arms angrily, which was different from his other arm flailings.

"You are the _worst_ best friend I've ever had!" Stiles yelled.

Scott blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"If you didn't want me to have Derek Hale's phone number, you could've just said so!" Stiles crossed his arms in a huff. "I mean, I would've ignored you and gone through your phone anyway, but that's beside the point!"

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, really not in the mood for his best friend's theatrics when he had a biology report to procrastinate on. "Stiles, remember what we said about speaking coherently."

Stiles fished out his phone and handed it to Scott. "That number you gave me wasn't Derek Hale's. It was to a Chinese place down in Queens! By the way, we're having moo goo gai pan for dinner. And at a really cheap price too!"

Scott looked confused. He pulled out his phone and scrolled down to Derek's number, hitting the call button. Two rings later, there was an old woman screaming in his ear in Chinese. And that was all he needed to hear before he realized that Derek had given him a fake number.

That complete and utter— "Asshole!" Scott exclaimed. "He fucking ghosted me!"

This was a slap in the face to Scott. He thought they had something special. One doesn't just cum inside somebody unless it meant something, right?

"Dude, you really didn't know?" Stiles asked when he saw the hurt look on Scott's face.

"No!"

"Holy shit, bro! You got pumped and dumped," Stiles blurted out. "Maybe it really was your bad blowjie skills."

Scott looked at him, offended. "My blowjie skills are amazing, thank you! And that's not what we're talking about now."

"Not that amazing apparently," Stiles muttered under his breath with his hand on his hips. "Don't worry, man. I don't blame you. I'll even pay for the Chinese. But I get the extra egg roll."

But Scott was too depressed to care about egg rolls at the moment. He kept running scenarios in his head about where things went wrong. They had incredible sex; top tier sex. Scott had brought his A game to the table. He deepthroated for crying out loud. This was completely baffling to him. The whole situation made him feel like a cheap whore.

Stiles sat down next to Scott and patted his back comfortingly. "Hey, man. You gonna be okay?" Scott shrugged his shoulders, but nodded his head anyway. "Look, guys like Derek always turn out to be assholes. They're rich assholes who hang out with other rich assholes and talk about assholey things. You're better off without a guy like that." He squeezed his shoulder and Scott felt a little better.

"And look on the bright side, you got awesome sex out of it. Even if your blowjie skills weren't all that." Scott whacked him in the face with a pillow.

"Hey, Stiles, you're out of OJ," came a familiar voice.

In walked Theo Raeken, an old fuck of Scott's who was their usual weed supplier. He was leaning against the doorway like he was some too-cool-for-school bad boy from a teen romcom set in the 50s. He probably would've looked a lot cooler, except he was stark naked from head-to-toe. Actually, that definitely made him look cooler because—_Wow_—Scott forgot how amazing Theo looked nude.

Stiles gagged and flailed his arms again. "Dude!"

But Theo just shrugged, unfazed. "What? You've both seen me naked before."

Scott gave Stiles a look. "Has he been here the whole time?"

"Since last night..." Stiles mumbled. His face was already flushed pink with hot shame. "I mean you were working late and I didn't think you'd mind if he spent the night."

"Stiles, told me you fucked a really hot painter guy the other night," Theo announced. "So is his dick bigger than mine?"

Scott rolled his eyes because Theo would ask something like that. Stiles looked like a blood vessel was going to pop in his neck and spill all over the carpet.

Of all the jobs Scott had, he enjoyed catering the most. It was pretty decent pay, his boss was pretty flexible with his hours, and he usually got to eat the leftovers. It was definitely better than gobbling down frozen pizza rolls or ordering take-out from that cheap, little Mongolian place a couple of blocks from his apartment building that Stiles found when he was making a weed run at Theo's.

His latest catering gig was on a huge riverboat off the Hudson River that very weekend. It was going to be an all-nighter and Scott doesn't expect to be home until at least one-in-the-morning. But it was going to be a good paycheck and Scott won't have to worry about which bills he can pay and which he can afford to be late on. It was the usual crowd: a bunch of snobbish rich mooks with their heads up each other's asses and fawning over their expensive watches and jewelry.

Scott was in the middle of filling out a tray of hors d'oeuvres (these weird balled up fish) when he happened to look up at the crowd where someone caught his eye, much to his dismay. Across from the catering table was a crowd of people laughing and smack in the middle was Derek Hale, the current bane of Scott's existence.

"Shit," Scott hissed. He felt like a deer in headlights. He wasn't sure where he could go and hide. He was stuck in place.

"Scott, take these around," his boss Deaton requested, shoving the tray of fish balls into his hands and ushering him out into the crowd. He could've gone to any other group and offer his fish balls to them but his feet were taking him to where Derek was currently entertaining a bunch of wealthy snobs.

Scott put on his best fake smile and held his tray up. "Hors d'oeuvres?"

Derek was in the middle of taking a big gulp of his champagne when he saw Scott and he almost choked.

"I'm fine," Derek told his colleagues, still coughing as they patted him on the back. "I just swallowed too fast."

Scott hummed. "Ah, I've been there."

Derek went pale and Scott couldn't help the smug smile playing out on his face. He handed out the hors d'oeuvres, but Derek declined to have any of the fish balls Scott offered, which was odd considering he didn't seem to mind having Scott's balls in his mouth a few days ago. He would have loved to have made that wisecrack but that would be a little too on the nose.

Scott had made his way back to the catering table with an empty tray and muttered to Deaton that he was going to take a small break. He pulled off his apron and made his way to the port side where he looked out at the stars. It was a beautiful night against the Hudson River, shining against the stars. It was like sailing on the galaxy. The only thing that could ruin it was a figure walking up to him wearing cologne that Scott had gotten all too familiar with.

There was no one else but him and Derek, who was stuck in an awkward silence, unsure of what to say. Finally, he mustered up the courage to speak. "I probably should explain myself."

Scott rolled his eyes. "I think the only acceptable excuse that doesn't make you look like a complete douchebag would be you telling me you accidentally typed in a wrong number and not purposely give it to me so you would never hear from me again."

Derek winced. "I fucked up."

Scott turned to him with an angry look. "What the fuck, dude? We spent a great night together and then we had a great afternoon the next day. And then you just go and give me a fake number? What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"I panicked, alright?" Derek whispered. "I don't normally do this kind of thing."

Scott scoffed at him. He was about to walk away but Derek stopped him, but Scott shrugged him off.

"Look, I get it," he started, "You wanted this to just be a one-night stand and it turned into one-night and an awesome afternoon. I shouldn't have asked for your number. Whatever, dude."

He tried to walk off again but Derek didn't let him. "Wait, please." Scott sighed and stepped back to listen to what Derek had to say. "I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry. It's just... Normally, when I do something like this, it usually just ends right there. When you asked for my number, I freaked out so I thought if I gave you the wrong number, it would just kind of go away."

Scott looked at him like he had two heads. "That's your excuse, dude? You told me where you private studio was."

Derek sighed. "Yeah, I know. I really didn't think that one through."

He tried to suppress a laugh, but Scott couldn't help but chuckle at the way Derek was acting. It was far from the suave and cool yuppie that he so effortlessly played well. It was almost like seeing Derek be a regular person for once.

Derek smiled and laughed with him. "I really am sorry," he said. "If I could go back and fix it, I would."

Scott wanted to be more indignant and maybe question if he really would feel that way had Scott not confronted him, but Scott wasn't the kind of person to hold grudges for too long. That was more Stiles' shtick. Scott was always so forgiving, a trait too many people in his life have taken advantage of.

"You know," Derek began, "I kinda feel like maybe it's not a coincidence that we keep running into each other."

Scott nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"I'm not really good at this kind of thing, but maybe we could try something? Like hang out sometime if you wanted to?"

"Like go on a date?"

"Like hang out..." he paused with a knowing smirk. "And then do other stuff."

All that was missing was him wiggling his eyebrows like a cheap 70s porn star, but Scott still laughed anyway. He definitely loved other stuff. He loved other stuff in the bedroom, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the back of Theo's truck, in Derek's private studio. And many other fun places. While Scott was going down memory lane in his head, Derek surprised him by pulling him into a kiss. And given past precedence, no one should expect Scott to not have a positive erection—eh, _reaction_—whenever his lips meet Derek's.

"How long's your break?" Derek asked as he deepened the kiss.

Scott grinned widely as Derek continued planting more kisses against his lips. He grabbed a hold of Scott's hand and pulled him away to a more private area. He dragged him to a nearby bathroom. It wasn't exactly as romantic as a private bedroom, but they weren't exactly trying to be lovey-dovey. It was a basic need that had to be sated.

Scott was being pushed against the bathroom stall as Derek nipped at his neck and fumbled with his belt buckle. Scott moaned into their kiss as he tried to unbuckle Derek's own belt. Finally, they were able to undo each other's pants and were sticking their hands in each other's waistbands, taking a hold of each other's hard cocks and stroking them.

"You don't have to last long," Derek breathed as he left scratchy kisses against Scott's skin. "We don't really have that much time."

He rubbed a thumb over the crown of Scott's cock, sending shock waves through his body. He felt Derek's mouth gradually getting lower and lower until he reached the expanse of skin of Scott's exposed chest as Derek unbuttoned his vest and shirt. Scott writhed when he felt Derek suck on one of his nipples. It wouldn't be long before he came, so he did his best to try to jerk Derek off so that he wouldn't be the only one making a mess of himself.

"Oh, fuck," Scott growled. His breathing was getting harder, more ragged, as their hands moved languidly over each other. Their bodies were pressed together, almost like they were fused. Derek righted himself so that they were face-to-face and dick-to-dick before he humped against Scott and effectively rubbed their cocks together. The sensation drove Scott's senses wild and before he knew it, he was cumming.

Derek swallowed Scott's moan with his lips, nipping and biting at them as he chased his own release. And Scott was thankful he'd have to wear an apron for the rest of the night because he would have a hard time explaining the white stain on the front of his black slacks.

They stood motionless for a while, panting. Scott was still pressed against the wall and for a minute, it almost seemed like Derek didn't want him to go yet, but he was definitely running late with his break time, and pretty soon, Derek's colleagues would also wonder where he was. They cleaned up, Scott trying his best to wipe away the cum on his pants before Derek kissed him goodbye and went back to the party. Scott followed not too long after, quickly reaching for his apron to hide any evidence of their activities.

Derek was already back within his crowd of rich snobs while Scott was back at the catering table, minding the bar this time as Deaton and his crew were preparing more food.

"'Scuse me," came a drunken voice. A young woman stumbled over to the bar and Scott went pale when he recognized her. It was the same girl from Derek's apartment—his sister Cora! The same sister who saw him naked with a morning erection in her big brother's apartment.

"Can I get another vodka martini? Very, very dry, please." Her words were slightly slurred from alcohol and it didn't seem like she recognized him immediately.

"Right away, ma'am," he said, his voice unusually high as he hastily put together her drink.

"And a lotta olives. Like at least three olives."

Scott nodded nervously as he stirred her drink with shaky hands. He purposely kept his head down so she wouldn't get a good look at him, but she kept looking at him with suspicious eyes.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked.

"Nope. Definitely not," Scott answered with a shake of his head, his response way too quick.

He managed to successfully get all of her drink into her martini glass without spilling anything before handing it to her. He watched her guzzle it down in record time before practically swallowing the olives whole.

Cora waved the cocktail pick at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. "You really do look familiar."

"I, uh, probably have one of those faces," Scott laughed nervously. "I cater a lot of events, too."

"Maybe..." She looked like she was about to say something else until a voice came calling for her.

"Cora," said Derek as he approached the bar. "Another one? Isn't that your fifth one already?"

"Fourth," Cora corrected as she threw her brother the middle finger. "It's about to be number five right now."

She snapped her fingers at Scott, who obediently began stirring her another cocktail. He exchanged a look with Derek, and he could tell that he was just as uneasy about Cora being in close proximity to Scott as he was. But he figured that the more booze in her system, the less likely she would recognize him so he filled her glass again and watch her down it in less than a minute.

"See that, big brother?" Cora began, her words even more slurred. She pointed at Scott. "Already this guy is treating me better than my own blood and flesh."

Derek rolled his eyes as he hooked his hand around Cora's arm to drag her away. She was resistant at first but eventually she let her brother manhandle her back to the crowd and Scott let out a sigh of relief because the last thing he needed was a very drunk woman recognizing him while he had her brother's cum stains on the front of his slacks.

The night went by agonizingly slow. Scott spent most of it handing out hors d'oeuvres and actively avoiding Cora, who was still putting down vodka martinis like they were water. Meanwhile, Derek was making rounds through the evil one-percenters, trying his best to behave himself whenever Scott would pass by with his tray in hand. But if his hand managed to brush against Scott's ass or give it a good squeeze without anyone noticing, then that was his business.

Finally after the ship docked and all the drunken party guests stepped off into their limos, Scott was helping with clean-up. He tossed the plates into the tub, managing to sneak a few uneaten fish balls into his mouth as he did, and was carrying them over to the catering table when his boss popped up.

"You didn't have to stay to do that, Scott," he said kindly, "I could've gotten someone else to handle clean-up."

Scott just shrugged as he dropped the box for his boss to take. "It's alright. I'm happy to help."

"But you know I don't pay for overtime. I feel bad because you're always staying to help and I'm not paying you for it."

But Scott just gave him a warm smile. "It's fine, really. I want to be here."

Deaton shook his head and smiled back. His eyes trailed elsewhere. "It looks like we have a straggler," he said with a knowing smirk before walking away.

Scott turned to see Derek standing awkwardly in the corner of the hall. He sauntered over to the catering table where Scott stood with that cocky smirk that was so damn sexy.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," Scott replied smoothly. "Come for the leftovers?"

"Came for seconds," Derek quipped, leaning in for a quick kiss. While their lips were occupied, Derek slipped something into Scott's hand before pulling away. "It's not Chinese," he spoke softly before walking away. Scott looked at the paper in his hand. There was a phone number scribbled in.

Derek promised it wasn't Chinese, so maybe it was to a nice Thai place.


	5. "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is -- the last chapter of 2019! I'm really happy with how this story is coming about and how productive I've been this past month after a very slow year. Thank you to everyone who kept up with my stories and especially to this vanity project of mine.

Stiles was pacing around the room, angrily flailing his arms during brief intervals while Scott just sat at the couch, boredly scrolling through their Netflix queue. Theo was also there, in the kitchen, raiding their fridge. Fortunately (or unfortunately), he decided to have some decency and wear sweatpants, although he still elected to not wear a shirt like the show-off that he was.

"So that's it? You just forgave him?" Stiles fumed. His face was pink and his lip was curled up as usual. He had probably asked Scott that same question a million times already since the first time Scott told him that he and Derek made plans to go out this Sunday. "I swear to God, Scott! You need to see someone about this addiction to dicks you have. An ad-dick-tion!"

"Ha ha," Scott said dryly as he put on _The Office_. Theo sauntered into the living room with half of a sandwich for himself and the other half for Stiles and no half for Scott as he plopped down on the couch and snatched the remote out of Scott's hand to put on _Black Mirror_. "Hey!" he had protested, but went completely ignored.

Stiles chomped a big chunk out of his turkey sandwich, spraying crumbs everywhere as he continued making beelines around the room. "You can't honestly think he wants to date you for real, do you?" Stiles said with a full mouth.

Scott shoved Theo, but he was like a tree planted firmly on their couch, teasingly waving the remote out of Scott's reach. He turned to his best friend with an offended look. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't think he'd wanna date me?"

"No, you're a catch—"

"And a great fuck," Theo added with a slick smile.

Stiles looked like he was ready to explode. "_Anyway!_—You're awesome, but this guy is a player. Players play games. He pumped you, then dumped you, then when you told him off, he put on his charm and you fell for it. Don't you know the old saying? Never trust a big dick and a smile."

Scott scoffed at his friend. "That's not the saying! And how do you even know he has a big dick?"

Stiles pointed an accusing finger at him. "Because you only ever get that goofy look on your face when you've just got done riding a five-dollar foot schlong."

"I know I've definitely seen that face before," Theo interjected with a shit-eating grin. He wiggled his eyebrows at Scott, who responded with the one-finger salute.

"I just don't wanna see you get hurt again," Stiles continued. "I mean, if he hurt you once, who's to say he won't do it again?"

Thankfully, the subject of Scott's sex life was officially dropped after that. Scott, Stiles, and Theo binged through _Black Mirror_ before arguing what show to watch next. All while in the back of his mind, Scott thought about Stiles' words and if he was being stupid to pursue something with Derek when there were already warning signs.

The best part about living in New York was that there was always something to do. Even a leisurely stroll through Central Park was ten times more interesting than walking through the the preserve back in Scott's hometown of Beacon Hills. And that was exactly what Derek had in mind. It was simple, not too flashy, even for a guy with money like Derek. It made him seem grounded and normal. Or maybe he was just being really cheap. Nevertheless, Scott enjoyed his company no matter what they did.

They walked all along the park, getting whatever food the vendors were offering. Scott put away three hot dogs and was on his second bag of popcorn, while he gabbed away about his life. He talked about growing up with a single mom, about trying and failing to have a good relationship with his dad, about wanting to be a veterinarian and how the catering gig was meant to be temporary. He talked about Stiles and Theo and how he thought they're going to be boyfriends now even though they're not putting a label on anything.

"He's pretty much a second roommate now," Scott had said derisively. "One who doesn't even pay rent."

Derek just laughed as they walked along Bow Bridge before stopping to admire the view of the lake.

"Now c'mon, don't make me beg," Scott said suddenly as he tossed a few kernels into the lake for the ducks to feast on. "You have to tell me at least one thing about yourself."

Derek hummed thoughtfully. "What is there to know about me that can't be found on Google?"

"You tell me," Scott said with a shrug as he popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

Derek scrunched his face, looking like he really was having a hard time figuring out what to say. Scott rolled his eyes. "You know it could be literally anything. I mean, you can't find out how big your penis is on Google."

"Yeah, but you already know about that one," Derek replied with a wink.

"Intimately," Scott joked back.

Derek straightened up a bit. "Alright—" He began, pausing for a moment. "I was out that night—when my house caught on fire. I was with some friends, drinking and doing drugs. I was like sixteen at the time. I had gotten into a big argument with my parents and just left. When I came home, everything was gone. My younger sister—Cora—was away at boarding school while my older sister was away at college. If I hadn't just stormed off like I did, I would probably be dead too."

"I'm sorry."

"I've gotten over it. I kinda had to. I'm an artist; the more angst in my life, the better the paintings." Derek looked down at the ducks. "Cora was the one that was affected the most, I think. It's why she drinks so much and can be a bit—"

"Mean?"

"—of a bitch," Derek finished dryly.

Scott chuckled at the blunt honesty. From the corner of his eye, he could see Derek studying him. "You know, this is the the first time in a long time I've been on an actual date with someone. You can imagine they're hard to come by when you're name's engraved at every art gallery."

"Especially when you hand out numbers to really cheap Chinese restaurants," Scott retorted cheekily.

Derek chuckled. "Yeah, that was really bad." He looked Scott in the eyes with a serious expression. "I mean it though. I'm actually really enjoying being with you. It's hard for me to be open sometimes. I like that I can be myself with you."

It should be cheesy, but after seeing the sparkle in Derek's eye, Scott could feel himself just going with it. They continued their walk through the park, chatting and laughing. Derek talked about his art, what inspires him, a few of his favorite painters, and why he chose his style—post-impressionism. Scott wasn't entirely sure what that was and he was still confused even after Derek explained it to him. By the end of the day, Derek's limo driver Boyd had arrived to take them to Derek's studio loft where he did his paintings.

"Sometimes I sleep here," Derek explained. "If I'm feeling inspired." There was a makeshift bedroom—a big mattress thrown on the floor with a tiny desk for a nightstand—inside of a giant hole where a brick wall had been. Scott never noticed it before, and he wondered why they never used it the first time he came to visit Derek's private studio. He felt a pair of strong hands press him against a support beam before the scratch of Derek's beard scruff was on his lips in a breathy kiss.

Derek was on him like his mouth was the only source of oxygen and Scott was instantly hard and rutting against Derek's thigh.

"Y'know, I've been really enjoying our date," Scott sighed as Derek started ravishing his neck.

Derek pulled away from him, lips swollen and out of breath. "Wouldn't be complete if we didn't have amazing sex afterwards."

"Definitely."

Scott fell back onto Derek's surprisingly fluffy mattress. It was like falling on a cloud. Hands were on him, undressing him skillfully in a way that was all so familiar to the owner. Pretty soon, he was naked and those hands were now exploring every expanse of skin on his body like they were touching him for the first time. Derek seemed content on just worshipping his body, lips and tongue biting and licking over Scott's chest and stomach. Scott arched his back, eyes closed and mouth open in ecstasy.

His cock was making a sticky mess on his abs, but Derek wouldn't touch him there. Instead, he pecked his lips around that area, purposely torturing Scott and driving him crazy. His kisses trailed downward until they got to the dip where his leg met his hip and he hooked Scott's leg over his shoulder to get a better access to his hole. Scott almost came when he felt Derek's beard scratch against his sensitive nutsack before Derek's kisses found their way closer to Scott's entrance.

He felt a small press of Derek's wet tongue against the rim, a feeling that made his toes curl. He let out a loud moan as Derek's tongue pushed further into him, his hands gripping the sheets tightly into his fists. Derek eventually moved back up over his balls, sucking one into his mouth and driving Scott wild. He smirked as he watched Scott come apart from his touch, stopping momentarily to give Scott a break, who just lied there breathing heavily. Then without warning, he engulfed Scott's entire length expertly in one go, making him gasp.

The endless foreplay had left Scott on the edge and he was cumming in seconds, that Derek happily swallowed.

"You're the worst," Scott sighed, smiling goofily, as Derek sat up next to him, his large cock heavy against his hip. But Derek just smirked at him like a little shit, tracing a finger over the lines of Scott's tattoos. He seemed entranced by the various colorful designs from a rocket to an eagle on his collarbone all the way to the double bands on his left bicep. And that was just the top half. Scott's entire body was a canvas.

"Like 'em?" Scott said, eyes sleepy.

Derek rubbed a thumb over Scott's crooked jawline. "You're beautiful," he said, entranced. "Everything on your body is a work of art."

Scott blushed, but didn't have time to reply before Derek was pulling him into a kiss. The kiss felt a lot more intimate than the others they've had. There was passion and desperation, like Derek wanted nothing else in the world but him. Derek rolled them over so that Scott was on top of him, their cocks rubbing together as Derek's hands slid their way down Scott's back and over his ass. Scott gasped when he felt Derek's fingers breach him.

"You still haven't cum," Scott whispered between kisses.

They rolled over again, this time so that Derek was on top. He reached out for the lube he kept in the little desk before prepping Scott and aligning his cock against his hole. He wasted no time before he was inside him, this time agonizingly slow.

It was different than the other times. The other times had been raw sex. They were trying to get off. Tonight was them making love. There was intimacy in the way Derek bottomed out inside of Scott, making cry out. There was something to going slow and tender that made it better than going fast and rough. Scott could feel every slide of Derek's cock, hitting every line inside him. Scott couldn't even fathom time. It could've been minutes or hours, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that it felt like time had stopped.

When Derek came, it was like Scott was seeing it for the first time. He committed every gasp and every sigh to memory. He studied the way Derek's eyes would shut close and his mouth parted as he shot his seed inside him. Derek leaned down to capture Scott's lips again.

"Perfect," was all that could be said. He wasn't sure if he said it or if Derek did, Scott was too blissed out to remember. His eyes were closing and he felt himself drifting away until he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the smut because this is meant to be the last chapter with an explicit smut scene. Or at least, it's supposed to lol. It could still change depending on how I want to end it, but for now, I would hope you guys came for the porn and stayed for the plot :P


	6. "Girl with a Pearl Earring" by Johannes Vermeer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've honestly enjoyed writing the background Steo shenanigans.

When Scott woke up, the bed was empty. It was super bright and Scott was super ready to roll over and go back to bed.

"Try not to move so much," he heard a voice say. He snapped his head in the other direction to see Derek with a paintbrush in hand and canvas righted in front of him. He was still naked, but he had his legs cross so Scott couldn't get a good look at that beautiful dick of his. How rude.

He was staring thoughtfully at the painting in front of him before gliding the brush across the canvas. When he told him not to move, suddenly Scott was aware of how awkward his position was and all he wanted to do was move. Derek added a few more strokes to his painting before smiling cheekily at Scott.

"Done."

Instantly, Scott started stretching himself out before falling back on the mattress with a tired exhale. He was usually a morning person, but all he wanted was some coffee and to not talk to anyone. But then he saw Derek get up and watched with unbridled glee as Derek's cock swayed between his legs before the man turned around for a really great view of his bouncy ass. He was taking the painting and moving it another room, almost purposely in a way so that Scott wouldn't be able to see the finished work.

Scott scrubbed his hand over his face as he became very aware of his surroundings, which was a dingy-looking loft with exposed pipes and broken brick walls and grimy windows where the sun would beam in. It was a far cry from Derek's impeccably clean apartment.

"You know waking up in your studio doesn't exactly have the same appeal as waking up in your apartment," Scott said finally.

"Hey, it has a character," Derek argued, amused. He walked back in and again Scott was treated to the sight of his beautiful cock. If he couldn't have some morning coffee, the least Scott could get his mouth on was some morning sausage.

When Derek got close enough to the mattress, Scott sat up on his knees and pressed a kiss to his treasure trail in an attempt to blow Derek. He already had his warm, flaccid cock in his hand when he felt Derek stop him, much to his disappointment.

"As much as I want to, I have somewhere to be in an hour," he had said. "Important art business to attend to."

Scott huffed, pouting as Derek leaned down to give him a good morning kiss before walking away to get dressed. Scott poked around for his clothes, pulling them on quickly just as Derek walked in with his dress shirt still unbuttoned, looking absolutely scrumptious. Scott shuffled over and wrapped his arms around his waist to kiss him yet again.

"Do you have to?" Scott whined when he pulled away.

Derek responded with a peck on the lips. "Tell you what? I can have Boyd take you to my place and you can wait for me there until I come back." Another kiss. "Don't steal any of my paintings," he joked with a smirk.

"Ha-ha-ha." Scott stuck his tongue out at him, but Derek saw that as another opportunity to kiss him again.

They walked down together to the front where Boyd was already waiting for them and pretty soon, they were off to Derek's apartment. Derek made sure they behaved for the most part on the car ride over, but if a hand found its way down someone's pants and a twist of tongues slipped into in each other's mouths, he was willing to look the other way.

Scott looked around Derek's place, studying the artwork and marveling at the colors again. If he was being honest, he still didn't learn a single thing about art from Derek or Stiles. They all still just looked pretty and weird to him. About an hour had gone by and Scott had already raided the fridge for some bagels and cream cheese and put on a pot a coffee. Until finally his phone rang and _The Thong Song_ was playing.

"Yo! Scotty!" came Stiles' happy voice. "I'm assuming since you answered, you didn't wake up with your organs sold on the black market. So I'm guessing your date went very well, you little slut."

Scott chuckled. "Look who's talking! I wouldn't be surprised if Theo was there right now, sucking your dick while you talk to me."

"Shows how much you know!" Stiles retorted haughtily. "He's actually eating my ass right now. Check it out." He called back with FaceTime and against his better judgement, Scott accepted the call to sight of Stiles holding his phone over his shoulder with Theo's handsome face buried in his best friend's pale, white ass.

"When the cat's away, the mice will do ass play!" Stiles joked before his face twisted in a very awkward-looking way when Theo's tongue hit a sensitive spot.

Scott rolled his eyes, but laughed good-naturedly. "I hate both of you," he teased. "So why'd you call?"

"I just got off the phone with—_Gyuh! Oh fuck, Theo!_—I got off the phone with Lydia and she just told me she sealed a deal with Derek to do an art showing at the gallery."

Scott blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked.

"Yep, and I'll be honest. I may have stolen the number from your phone while you were sleeping, but I promise you, I 100% was thinking of myself and a brand new used car."

Scott shook his head at his friend. "Whatever. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, bro!" Stiles smiled as he rolled over so Theo could ride him. "I. Owe. You. Best. Buddy. Of. Mine," he moaned between thrusts, face contorting weirdly. "It's. This. Saturday. Wear. Your. Best. Dress. Clothes."

"I'll mark it on the calendar," Scott said, deadpanned. "Call me later with all the details when you're not showing me your O-face."

With that, he hung up. He loved his best friend and his antics, but he really did not want to see the ending of _One Night In Theo_. Not when he had his own porno to star in when Derek came home. A little while later, there was a the sound of keys unlocking the door and Scott immediately perked up.

"Hey," Scott greeted excitedly as he pranced over to the door, but what he was greeted something considerably less desirable, but no less Hale.

Cora had screamed when she saw Scott come up to her, wondering who this stranger was that was in her brother's apartment. They really had to stop meeting like this, but at least Scott was wearing more than a bed sheet this time around.

"Oh, my god!" Cora growled. "You? Again? What are you doing here?"

It was like the cat had Scott's tongue by its tongue balls. The last time he and Cora met like this in Derek's apartment, Scott had every intention to do every dirty deed in the book with her brother. Today was really no different than the last. Except this time, Cora seemed less sober and more volatile. Immediately, he thought back to what Derek had said about Cora and her drinking and he pitied her, but the cold look she gave him was making it hard for him to sympathize.

"I'm waiting for Derek," Scott muttered, finally.

Cora scoffed. Her arms were crossed and she was circling Scott like he had personally offended her and her tacky pearl earrings by just existing. She was looking him up and down and he only prayed for Derek to come home already.

"_Hmph_—Derek's not usually one for repeat-performances," she said snidely. "But you seem special."

"Thanks," Scott said lowly. Even if it was a compliment, it didn't sound benign. Instead, it sounded like he was being judged.

"Kinda surprised though," Cora continued. "He usually goes for art snobs or sons of CEOs. Never known him to go for a caterer." Scott looked at her in shock. "Come on, I may be an alcoholic, but I'm not an idiot."

"Sorry," he quickly said, but he wasn't sure what he was saying sorry for.

"You must be a great lay," Cora quipped. Scott bristled up at the degrading remark. He could've said something, but then he thought about Derek and how he'd react if he told off his sister. He probably wouldn't have cared, because maybe he thought she'd deserve it. But he decided it was for the best to just let her talk.

They were only words anyway.

"I could tell my brother thinks only with his dick if he lets a stranger just hang around his apartment with all of his expensive artwork."

"I'm not here to steal anything," Scott defended. "I'm just waiting for—"

"For Derek," she finished. "Yeah, I got it. I guess the sex must be that good. You probably should've walked away with the artwork. Would've been an easy score."

It suddenly occurred to Scott that Derek was taking too much time getting home and that Cora was not going to make this exchange any easier. He knew he should wait it out, but this was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to live it down if the sister of his future baby daddy saw him cry his eyes out because she hurt his feelings.

"I'm gonna go," Scott said finally, letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding. His fingernails were digging into his palm and his patience was already on its last leg. He had to leave as soon as possible.

"You do that," Cora retorted as she watched Scott hastily stumble out of the apartment.

He had taken a couple of cab rides home. He'll never admit out loud that he shed a few tears on the first cab ride, but he did his best to not look so bothered when he walked into his and Stiles' apartment. He sat on the couch with a dejected sigh as Stiles' head popped out from the behind the fridge in their kitchenette.

"Scotty, you're home... so soon," Stiles laughed nervously.

"Hey," Scott greeted, eyes downcast.

"I thought you were gonna be at Derek's all day."

"Didn't work out. Decided to come home early."

"Great..."

Scott looked over at his best friend, who looked like he was hiding behind the fridge with the way he hunched back and was peeking with just one eye. Scott could only roll his eyes, because it was already three in the afternoon and he had hoped Stiles and Theo's sex games had taken a refractory period.

"What's the matter, bro?"

Scott just shrugged, but Stiles wasn't satisfied with just that. "I don't know, Stiles. I just keep getting this weird feeling between me and Derek."

"I think that's supposed to happen—they call it a G-spot."

"No, I mean, it just feels like everything around me is telling me that Derek and I aren't going to work out and that I shouldn't get my hopes up."

Stiles shuffled into the room with every intention of comforting his best friend, but when Scott saw Stiles completely naked with nothing but a can of whipped cream covering up his junk, he felt anything but comforted.

"Ugh, Stiles!"

"Don't look at me like that!" Stiles huffed. "I am feeling very concerned for my best bro in the entire world right now and I will not let a little thing like my penis come between our brodom!" He paused. "Wait, my penis is not little! I mean, sure I can cover it up with just this whipped cream—" He held the can up to show Scott, effectively showing off the Stilinski family jewels and causing Scott to groan in annoyance. "—but that's just clever placement."

Scott had his head buried in his hands and was already contemplating moving out when he felt Stiles sit along next to him on the couch—bare-assed—and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, look, man," he started, voice soft. "I know I was saying all that shit to you about Derek. I felt bad for saying it and I shouldn't have said that to you. I didn't know how bad it messed you up. I'm really sorry."

"Thanks, man," Scott said as he accepted a hug from his best friend. "Eww, dude! C'mon!"

"My bad," Stiles laughed. "Hey, look—whatever's got you feeling doubts about this thing with Derek, whether it was something I said or someone else, just don't listen to it. I know you don't want to get your heartbroken, but you'd also regret it if you walked out on something that could potentially be a great thing."

Scott nodded his head, feeling slightly better.

"Yo, Stiles!" Theo yelled out from Stiles' bedroom. "Where's that whipped cream?"

Stiles winced as Scott let out an annoyed sigh. "I forgot I left Theo tied up in my room. We'll continue this conversation right after I'm done. Also we're out of strawberries and chocolate syrup. And also I bought strawberries and chocolate syrup, even though we're on a budget. I'm really sorry."

Stiles stood up and tip-toed back to his room and Scott was going to have to try to find a way to erase the image of seeing his best friend's butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly hadn't intended for Cora to be such a bitch but someone has to be a villain. Might as well be her.


	7. "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing a fic feels so good. It really does. I'm sorry for taking so long to finish this when it really could've been finished a long time ago.
> 
> For a fic that I just kind of thought out of the blue, I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out. Thank you to all the loyal readers, so here's the long-awaited final chapter.
> 
> Here's to more fics like this because I really do just enjoy a good AU.

Scott stared blankly at the painting in front of him. Underneath the frame was a placard that read _The Fire Fox_ by Derek Hale. It was one of many fiery orange paintings that were displayed all along the art gallery. Everyone else looked impressed and if Scott hadn't seen most of these already, he probably would be just as mesmerized. But he had seen a lot of these, right side up and upside down, with the artist on top of him, fucking the life out of him. They were all very pretty. And very weird.

Again, Scott found himself on his night off. Deaton was doing the catering again and was a bit understaffed, but he understood Scott's position as the man of the night, Derek Hale's, date, so he gave Scott a break from working himself to the bone. But truth be told, he was bored and kind of indifferent. Instead, his mind was occupied with scenarios of how he and Derek were going to break up.

He was never impressed by artwork, even with dating a famous painter. He began to wonder if something like that would be a deal breaker for Derek. Would he date someone who doesn't appreciate his lifelong passion? He needed someone who could support him. Not just someone who gave him an orgasm.

There was a pang of sadness in his chest now. He was making himself depressed with all this talk. He needed to wash away his paranoid mind with as much alcohol as he could get his hands on.

"Hey, man," came a familiar voice. Scott gulped down the rest of his fourth glass of champagne as Theo walked up to him. "I think if you drink four more of those, the paintings start to move."

Scott snorted. His eyes trailed over Theo's outfit, a nicely tailored suit that fit him perfectly. Stiles probably picked it out. Most of the time, Theo wore basketball shorts or sweatpants with no underwear and no shirt. Of course, Stiles had picked it out.

"I saw you and Stiles earlier," Scott said, his words slurred a bit. "Giving each other a peck on the lips and holding hands. It's really nice that you two are... y'know."

"Boyfriends?" Theo smirked. However, he ducked his head shyly, instead of the usual bravado he had. It was cute and disgustingly sweet all at the same time.

Scott chuckled as he snatched another glass of champagne. "I'm happy for you guys."

"We're happy for you, too."

Scott shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure what you're happy for."

Theo shot him a confused look. There was genuine concern in his eyes that Scott wasn't ready to deal with at the moment. Instead, he was ready for more alcohol as he finished off his fifth drink of the night.

"Are you sure you're okay—" Theo asked, but Scott cut him off.

"I'm fine," he snapped before chastising himself in his head for being so rude. "I'm sorry. I'm just really tired."

Theo eyed the empty champagne flute in his hand. "You're gonna be."

Scott nodded his head and made a play for a sixth glass when Stiles sauntered over to them, a wide happy grin on his face. "There's my two favorite guys!"

He wrapped an arm around them in a kind of group hug, effectively knocking a few drops out of Scott's glass. He whined at the loss, but still put down the remainder of his drink in quick succession. Stiles shook his friend happily, roaring over the success of the art gallery, which meant no more toilet paper that chafes and they get to buy the brand Ho-Hos and not the generic kind.

"Scotty, you are the man!" Stiles said jovially as he planted a forceful kiss to Scott's cheek. "The fucking man!"

"Congrats, babe," Theo smiled as he pulled Stiles into their own kiss, this time on the lips. It wasn't long before Stiles and Theo were sucking each other's bottom lips in a gross display of public affection.

"Mmm... let's sneak into the bathroom real quick for some celebratory blowjies," Stiles suggested as his hand snaked down to cup Theo's crotch.

Theo playfully swatted it away. "You already fingered me in the cab ride over."

Scott rolled his eyes as he snatched up two more champagne flutes because this little display was going to require a twofer. "You guys make me sick."

Stiles turned to him with an unamused expression. "You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep drinking all that champagne like it's _the_ Derek Hale's man-made Jamba Juice."

Scott just about choked on his drink.

Stiles pulled Theo away, disappearing into the crowd where they were no doubt about to debauch this once pristine art gallery. He'd have to remind himself to not touch anything with his bare hands that wasn't at least 12% alcohol. He turned away in the other direction to see if he could find something on the catering table that wasn't quiche or fish balls. He was all alone in the corner with the table, picking away at the hors d'oeuvres to see if there was anything worth eating until he felt eyes on his back.

He turned around and to his horror, he saw the last person on Earth he wanted to see: Cora Hale. She was stalking toward him, looking at him with an icy glare. It was like staring Death in the face, except Death didn't wear tacky pearl earrings and would rescue him from this hellish life so he wouldn't have to deal with this mega bitc—

"Hi, Cora," Scott grumbled as she cornered him. She had her arms crossed and was sporting a devilish smirk that made Scott want to suck Derek off right in front of her so it could be wiped away from her face.

"Good to see you again," she said and it did not sound sincere. "Just thought I'd apologize for being so rude to you back at Derek's place."

Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah?"

Cora nodded her head as she reached over and popped a fish ball into her mouth. "I mean, you can understand my defensiveness. Derek's a pretty well-known guy and he has a lot of money." Cora made a balance scale gesture with her hands. "And you don't have money. So how else was I supposed to react?"

Scott tried his best not to be offended by her implying that he was a gold digger. He was back to wishing that he had avoided her. In fact, he was starting to wish he had avoided this entire night and just stayed in bed until the next week. He wasn't sure how this conversation could go any worse, but he would soon find out that he should really be careful of what he wishes for.

"Oh, hey, I wanted you to meet someone," Cora began as she stalked away into the crowd. This was his chance to get away and he really should've taken that chance when a really attractive model-looking guy walked up with Cora by his side. He had cheekbones for days and great hair and bright blue eyes. But there was a cocky smirk on his face that indicated that this man was not anything less than the biggest, most pompous asshole Scott would ever meet.

"Wait, is this the guy?" model guy asked, snickering and pointing at him. "This is the guy Derek's dating now?"

Scott sighed, but Cora was the one who answered. "Not really dating. They had a bunch of one-night stands and then Derek took him out to Central Park and then they had sex again."

Scott bristled at the fact that Cora was revealing so much about his and Derek's relationship to a guy that he didn't even know or wanted to. Especially someone who looked like he was knee deep in white privilege. Model Guy snorted scornfully, rolling his eyes.

"That's Derek Hale for you," he said, arms crossed and nose in the air with a self-satisfied smirk on his face like he was the best thing in the world. "The name's Jackson Whittemore. I was on the cover of last month's GQ Australia. Got invited to this year's Golden Globes. Sat two tables down from Sia. I'm a pretty big deal in the model scene as you can tell."

Scott furrowed his brows. "Cool..."

"Anyway," Cora interjected, "Jackson and Derek actually used to date."

Scott stiffened. The night _did_ get worse. Much worse. Scott looked around for any support. All of the people were chatting and talking amongst themselves. No friends to help. They were too busy sucking each other off in the handicap stall of the men's bathroom. He supposed he couldn't blame them for taking advantage of the opportunity. Cora didn't seem to waste time taking advantage of a chance to humiliate Scott. And here he stood, a moron who didn't take advantage of running away when he had the chance.

"So is it true you're a waiter?" Jackson asked. He sounded so amused, like he was speaking to someone lower than him. And there was no doubt that he saw Scott as someone lower than him.

"Caterer." Scott muttered, looking away.

Jackson laughed, which somehow made him sound even more arrogant. "He actually thinks that's any different!"

Cora was laughing along with him. And maybe it was the alcohol that was affecting him, but it sounded like their laughs were on speakers, repeating over and over in his head. Like that prom scene in Carrie because _they're all gonna laugh at him_ except he doesn't have psychic powers to light the place up in flames. His head was spinning and he just wanted to leave.

He made a motion to leave but Jackson held up a hand to box him in. He was dangerously close to his face, his breath smelling of fresh mint and alcohol and his Hugo Boss cologne filling his nostrils. He leaned in closer to him.

"You must think you're pretty special," he said. "How many times have you guys fucked in his studio? I've been there five times." Scott looked in his eyes, then looked away. "I bet he used some tired line like _'your body's a work of art'_ or _'I don't usually do this kind of thing'_. I swear, sometimes he's like a cliched romantic lead in a Nicholas Sparks book."

Scott sucked in a breath as he felt his eyes go watery. But he willed himself to stop because he would be damned if he cried in front of this asshole. He made a motion to leave again, only to be stopped once again.

"You really don't know anything about him do you?" Jackson questioned. "Do you know his coffee order or his favorite color or what is favorite rock song of the 80s?" Scott gulped. "You're not his boyfriend. I'm not even his boyfriend and I know so many things about him. He doesn't do commitment. He's... _ephemeral_."

Scott shoved himself away from Jackson's hold, finally able to disappear into the crowd. He didn't dare look back at Jackson or Cora. His head was still dizzy and he felt like he was going to vomit. Actually, he was definitely going to vomit. He pushed through the crowd until he found the bathrooms. Suddenly, it felt like the room was lopsided, moving like a pendulum. Or maybe that was him who was swaying around like a disoriented deer on an icy path. He stumbled into an open stall and began to empty the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet. He was thankful that he was able to get it all into the bowl and not all over the floor.

He was definitely going to get a hangover. He was fucking idiot. He rested his head against the toilet, not even caring how disgusting that was. He just couldn't bring himself to keep his head up. It felt like lead at this point. His eyes trailed downward to the next stall over. There was a pair of feet with their pants around their ankles and between the legs, he could see another pair of legs kneeling before the other one. Just as the night couldn't get any worse, he walked in on Stiles and Theo, mid-sex game.

"I'm not having a good night, guys," Scott grumbled.

"Scott?" he heard Pants Around Ankles say. It was Stiles. He fumbled to get his pants back up as he exited the stall and walked into the one Scott was in. "What happened, man? We told you not to be drinking all that champagne."

Scott just shook his head as he sat up against the bathroom stall. He just stared at the black wall in front of him, not really looking at anything at all.

"You okay, Scott?" he heard Theo say. "You're crying."

_Shit_, he cursed in his head as he patted his wet cheek. "I'm such a fucking mess."

"Did Derek do something, man?" Stiles pressed protectively.

Scott didn't answer, but someone did. "Can't really do something if I haven't been by his side all night."

Stiles jumped three feet into the air as Derek appeared standing by the sinks, arms behind his back as he watched the three with curious eyes.

"Don't do that!" Stiles cried, rubbing his chest. "Bad hearts run in my family, y'know! My dad lived all the way to 57 with a bad heart."

Theo furrowed his eyebrows. "Your dad's still alive."

"And he's 57!"

"Okay, come on," Theo wrapped an arm around Stiles' and began ushering him away to give Derek and Scott some privacy.

"But I didn't get to cum—_doh!_"

They disappeared and it was just Scott and Derek now. Truth be told, he would've preferred to go with them because he definitely did not want Derek to see him in this condition. But he had no choice at this point as Derek waltzed into the cramped bathroom stall to see his not-boyfriend/one-night stand/casual fuck person on the floor in a men's bathroom with tears tracks over his cheeks and his puke inside of an unflushed toilet bowl.

"Oh, shit," Scott grumbled miserably.

Derek squatted down to his level. "Scott," he began, his tone filled with concern, "Is everything okay?"

Scott turned to face him. "I just had too much champagne."

But Derek didn't look convinced. "I don't think that's the reason," he said, "I think there's something you're not telling me."

Scott looked away, feeling embarrassed. He could feel a grumbling in his stomach, like he was about to heave up any leftovers that didn't make the journey into the commode. "What are we doing?" he asked when he found the words.

Derek shook his head, perplexed. "What?"

"I just mean... Do we even know each other's coffee orders?"

Derek furrowed his brows. "Scott, what are you talking about?"

Scott cringed, burying his face into his hands. "I'm sorry... I met Jackson."

He heard Derek let out an exasperated sigh. "Great..." he said. "I'm sure that was a fun exchange." He scooched into the cramped space, taking a seat opposite Scott so that they were face-to-face. "What'd he say?"

"Not much," Scott replied. "Basically, we don't know each other at all. And he's kind of right."

"Yeah, never let Jackson Whittemore think he's right about anything. It feeds his already large ego."

Scott shook his head. "Do you think we're moving too fast? Or not fast enough? Or... whatever the hell I'm saying." Scott was drunk, he had a headache and he sounded like an idiot right now. "Oh, my god," he moaned, "I'm such a fucking moron!"

"You're not a moron," Derek laughed. "I get why you're feeling like this. And I kind of think I'm partly to blame for it."

Scott looked confused. "Yeah...?"

"I mean, I kind of acted like an ass before and I think it might have made you insecure about some things about us."

Scott cringed. He didn't like hearing the word said out loud. It was embarrassing, especially coming from the guy he has been having feelings for. And the fact that he has feelings for a guy who makes him insecure. It was a vicious cycle that he doesn't think will end soon.

"I don't know if I'm good enough for you," Scott blurted out. "I feel like everything around me is telling me we're not gonna work out. Not just you ghosting me but your sister and Jackson and my friend Stiles... It's just a lot of things all at once."

Derek sighed, leaning back against the stall. There was a thoughtful expression on his face. And suddenly, Scott was beginning to feel like an even bigger ass than he had already. He wanted to just get up and run away. Away from all of this. Except Derek's hand was on his knee in a comforting gesture and it felt like a hundred pounds of weight keeping him from moving.

"A triple, venti, no-foam soy latte," Derek said abruptly. He smiled warmly at Scott, the crease of his eyes looking adorable to him.

"Oh my God," Scott exclaimed with a chuckle.

"What?"

"That is _such_ a pretentious coffee order!"

Derek laughed. "It is not! I like what I like!"

"God, I bet you love, like, non-fat hazelnut scones or something!"

"I like blueberry muffins, thank you."

They sat there, laughing, and Scott began to feel more at ease. Derek stopped and looked at him, green eyes searching through his own bloodshot brown ones. "Scott, I want you to know that I care a lot about you. I love your personality. I fucked up and I'm sorry. When I first saw you, I thought you were... hot."

Scott smirked at the compliment. "You think I'm hot?"

Derek ducked his head bashfully and it was just the cutest thing. If he hadn't been inside Scott these past couple of weeks, Scott would probably hate this kind of saccharine adorableness. Derek looked back up at him. "Yeah... Yeah, I think you're hot. Really hot."

"So hot?"

"So fucking hot."

Suddenly, he surged forward and captured Scott on the lips before Scott quickly pulled away. "I just puked..."

But Derek shook his head. "I don't care."

It was gross, but oddly sweet; the way he cupped Scott's face and pressed his warm lips against his own. And they didn't try to deepen the kiss either. They just sat there in close proximity to each other, lips together as one. Finally, Derek pulled away but he kept their foreheads together. "If it makes you feel any better... Your mouth tasted like rosé."

Scott whacked him in his insanely firm left pec.

"I'll tell you what," Derek started, rubbing his sore chest. "Let's get out of here. We'll ditch the party and go get some coffee." Scott brightened up. "Let's get to know each other better."

Scott smiled as Derek got up from the floor and helped him up. They kept their fingers linked together as they walked outside together into the sea of art snobs.

"Hey, Derek," Scott began as they snuck out the front door, "What's your favorite rock song from the 80s?"

Derek scrunched his face cutely. "Don't Stop Believin'."

Scott rolled his eyes. "That's so you..."

He yelped when Derek gave him a playful spank on the butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any fun AU ideas, plot or smut otherwise, let me know! I'm always available [here](http://scerek.tumblr.com/ask).


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